


wish you were sober

by drqco



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drqco/pseuds/drqco
Summary: martín just wanted to study for his calculus exam. but after seeing his best friend knock on his window to party, who could resist? anyway, it was going to be a normal night, right?right.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117





	wish you were sober

**Author's Note:**

> i have so much work to do but i ended up writing this and it isnt even that good wow anyway pls write more high school au berlermo i love them
> 
> title from the conan gray song :)

Martín yawns for the 100th time tonight, not out of sleepiness or tiredness, but simply because of boredom. 

He’s been sitting at his desk for the last five hours, ignoring every message coming from his phone and studying. The only thing he’s eaten today were crackers, and he’s only drank milk. His mind was filled to the brim with equations and formulas, studying for his calculus exam soon. And honestly, he’d drop this in a heartbeat if he wasn’t so intent on being an engineer. 

Plus, the only way he could do that was to earn a scholarship. If he didn’t get one, he knew he’d never make it out of here. But his head hurts really bad and he feels so much pressure in his chest that he wants to explode. 

And then of course, Andrés shows up to his window. 

He’s been in love with his friend since the beginning. Since they bumped into each other when they skipped class. He was missing english and Andrés was missing algebra, back in their first year of high school. Maybe it was the way Andrés walked like he owned the world, or the way he spoke, but in the end, Martín ended up falling for him, hard. 

It’s stupid of him, to be so caught up with Andrés, knowing how much Andrés loved girls. But girlfriend after girlfriend, Martín finds himself by Andrés’ side. Through thick and thin, even if it did hurt sometimes. 

“Martín!” Andrés calls out from the window. He’s grinning like a maniac, with his white shirt and baggy, striped pants. Andrés usually didn’t dress like this, only for parties. Obviously, Martín knows what’s next. 

Martín quickly clears his desk, throwing his calculus textbook to the floor and putting his papers in his drawer. He leans forward to open his window, helping Andrés in and onto his bed. “Why weren’t you answering my texts?” 

“I’m studying, Andrés,” Martín chides, though he’s still smiling at the boy. Andrés sits a few feet away from him, on his bed. “I can see that. But Ágata is throwing a party and-” 

“And I have to study. Go alone, bring Tatiana or something,” Tatiana’s name leaves something in his throat. It’s dry, thinking about Andrés’ ‘new’ girlfriend. But Andrés’ face drops at the sound of her name. “We broke up, two weeks ago. I realized something,” he tells him. Martín softens, goes to sit down next to his friend. “Sorry,” he murmurs. But nevertheless, Andrés shrugs and smiles, an indicator that he’s over it. 

“Don’t be sorry. Come to Ágata’s with me,” he pleads, gripping Martín by his shoulders. And with the way Andrés looks at him, he, again, cannot resist.  
“Fine, fine. Let me change,” he agrees. Andrés pumps his fist in the air and kisses him on the cheek, but Martín yearns for more. 

\--- 

He picks his outfit with haste, settling on a loose, striped red, black, and white button up shirt and fit pants, plus his black converse. He grabs the small, chain necklace his mama gave him a while ago, and puts it on. When he steps out of the bathroom, he spins around, showing Andrés. “So?” he asks, motioning to his outfit. Andrés smiles and walks forward, getting closer and closer. 

“Handsome, but,” he starts, and suddenly he’s way too close, to the point where their faces were inches away. Martín feels his face growing hot, and he can’t back away, as Andrés has basically pinned him against the wall. Andrés’ brown eyes are fixed on his and he’s too scared to even look away. He feels his fingers on his buttons, slowly opening three of them. 

“Now, you look _perfect_ ,” Andrés smirks as he backs away. When he’s a safe distance away, Martín finally breathes, before feeling his shirt. It’s opened to about halfway down his chest and as he looks in the mirror, he isn’t going to lie. He’s eating this up. But still, Andrés shouldn’t be allowed to do that. Nevertheless, he smirks and leans forward for Andrés, pulling him closer. 

He does the same to Andrés, and fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have because if he got any closer, he’d kiss him. Andrés looks so good it shouldn’t be allowed, and it sounds cheesy of him, but he’s like a criminal. 

“Come on, Martín,” Andrés winks, taking his hand and soon, they’re out of the room and into Andrés’ car, on the way to Ágata’s. 

\---

“You look hot, Martín, but it looks like you haven’t slept in five years.” 

Ágata’s voice cuts through the music, startling Martín. He was just getting comfortable on her couch, his drink of, actually he’s not sure, some type of alcohol, in his hand. On a normal day, he’d be dancing, probably making out with the first boy that shows even an ounce of interest in him. But tonight, he’s perfectly content on just sitting and observing, grateful to be out of the house. Plus, Andrés was nowhere to be found. 

“Calculus exam on Monday. If I don’t get an A, I’m fucked,” he responds, making room for her on the couch. The two of them scoot away to make room for a couple that had just fallen on the couch, making out. “It’s why you cheat, Martín. Come on, you’re smart enough to get the answer key.”  
“I know, and I’ve checked already, idiot. Mrs. Hernandez keeps that shit in a safe or something far away from here, can’t find it,” he rolls his eyes at Ágata, taking a sip. She’s in a nice dress, with eyeliner. Her hair falls in front of her face, and honestly, she looks really pretty. He got into fights with her in chemistry from time to time, but usually, they’re civil with each other. Plus, she and Andrés were allies, so they'd talk during those times.

“I assume you came because Andrés asked, right?” she smirks, resting her chin on her fist, which was propped up against the back of the couch. Martín scoffs, turning to face her. He doesn’t respond, he just takes more sips of his drink. “You’re wrapped around his finger, Martín. Shit, just date him already.” 

“Why are you so intent on getting us together? Last time I checked, you called me a brainless pig in chemistry last week.” 

“That’s because you are. And it’s obvious, you two were made for each other. Asshole with an asshole, eh?” she laughs, and Martín shoves her a little, but he still smiles. “You may never get the chance again, Martín.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve got our friendship on the line. Andrés is straighter than a stick.” 

“So when he stepped up to Yashin flirting with you the other day, it means he’s straight? Hm, nice to know.” 

“He’s just,” and the words never make it out of Martín’s mouth. Mostly because he can’t think of anything else. He’s never really thought about that, but did it really mean anything? “He’s right there. We’ll test it out. Hey, Daniel? Come here for a second,” Ágata motions over for another boy to come over. He knows Daniel too. He’s another one of Andrés’ allies. His laugh is funny, he’ll give him that. 

“Hm?” 

“Kiss Martín real quick.” 

“Andrés’ boy? Do you want me to get killed, Ágata? After everything?” Daniel says, putting his hands up. “He’s even watching!” he whispers to her. Martín doesn’t have the courage to look back. And if he has to kiss Daniel to prove Ágata’s point, fuck it. He was already kind of drunk, anyway. 

“Just kiss me, quick,” Martín sighs, before leaning over the back of the couch to kiss him. Maybe he would’ve enjoyed it if Andrés wasn’t on the line. Three seconds pass and he isn’t going to lie, Daniel was good, and he hears Andrés. 

“Martín! Come here!” Andrés’ voice pierces through the music and the others, and when he pulls back from Daniel, Andrés is there, motioning him over. “Okay. I’m gonna go,” Daniel gets out quickly, and before he and Ágata could say bye, he’s out of sight. He waves at Andrés from the couch, laughing as he watches his friend dance. The blues and reds of the lights shine on his face perfectly. 

“Bingo,” Ágata smirks from behind her drink, shoving him in the shoulder. “Go. You owe me. Get me answers for Campa’s quiz on Thursday and we’ll be even.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off his friend. He slams his drink on the table and his legs are moving before he can even calculate his next moves. 

\--- 

They’ve been dancing together for what seems like hours now. Martín has lost track of time, but the music was still going and Andrés looked so, so good. He was getting sweaty, with his white shirt sticking to his chest and head thrown back, singing loudly and off key. He’s been drinking too, so Martín thinks he’s drunk. He knows his friend wouldn’t do this sober. 

“Te quiero, Martín! I love you!” And who knew that the three words that Martín had longed to hear for years would bring him down on this night. 

Something inside Martín clicks for a second, trying to process what Andrés just said. He feels himself stop dancing, instead he’s left watching Andrés dance with his eyes closed, mumbling. His brain can’t comprehend it. But isn’t this what he wanted? 

“Those girls never made me feel what I feel for you!” he whoops, and he takes another swig of whatever is in his cup. Martín watches him spin around, shaking his hips and moving his arms around to the beat. And as much as he wanted to believe him, he couldn’t. Andrés was drunk, he would never say that sober. It’s like he’s toying with Martín, teasing him, reeling him in and bam, he’s left to the side again. He feels himself getting teary eyed. He’d drink it away, but he needs to take Andrés home. 

“Andrés, come on, I’ll take you home.” 

“No, no, no, I want you to dance with me,” slurs Andrés, reaching out for him. Martín shakes his head, finally being the sane one out of the two of them. He grabs Andrés by his forearms and leads him away from all the dancing, digging into Andrés pockets for his keys. “Getting handsy, hm, Martín?” Andrés winks at him, leaning into him. Martín shakes his head, dragging Andrés out of Ágata’s house. 

“Bye Ágata!” he shouts back into the house as he and Andrés stumble out onto the pathway, shuffling to get into Andrés’ car. 

Apart from the music from Ágata’s house, the night is quiet. The streets are still filled with cars, but nevertheless, as the two of them make their way to the car, it’s still. He’d enjoy it more if he didn’t have to listen to Andrés’ drunken lies. He unlocks the car, and he holds Andrés up with one arm and tries to wrestle open the passenger door with his other free arm. And just as he gets it open, he loses his grip on Andrés. Andrés stumbles up, opens the backseat doors, and Martín knows he’s fucked. 

Andrés grabs him by his collar and in the next seconds, he’s slammed into the seats of the backseat, with Andrés falling on top of him. Their faces are so close, and he feels some of Andrés sweat fall on his opened shirt. “Andrés, get off, please,” he begs, because if he didn’t, he’d do something he’d regret. But Andrés doesn’t move. Their position makes Andrés dig his elbow into his side, but he doesn’t focus on the pain. Their breaths mingle, and Andrés is giving him a look. He smells of sweat, his special cologne, and wine. 

Martín can’t hold himself back. 

In an instant, he’s kissing his best friend. His hands hold Andrés’ cheeks and neck, pulling him closer and closer. Andrés kisses him back in the same way, desperate. And as he kisses Andrés, in the back of his shitty car, all he wished was that Andrés could do this when he’s sober. 

\--- 

After a few minutes, Martín’s senses finally kick in. 

“ _Che_ ,” he murmurs against Andrés, and using all his might, he pulls him away from him. In any other circumstance, Martín would’ve never pulled away first. To let go of something he’s been wanting for years? Never. But it felt wrong, what they were doing. It’s like Martín took advantage of his friend, and he’d never do that to him. He loves him too much. 

“Andrés, come on, let’s go home,” he shoves Andrés up and back, letting him stumble before catching him. Andrés leans on him still, yawning. He doesn’t say a word. 

He wrestles Andrés back into the passenger seat and slams the door shut, sighing. As he gets into the driver’s seat and starts on the drive to Andrés’, he thinks about their conversation tomorrow. He wonders, how will Andrés let him down? Will he say it’s all a joke? Will he blame him for kissing him? Will he leave him? It’s like it’s a game with Andrés. 

Andrés is snoring by the time they make it to his house. It’s small, but it’s like Martín’s second home. Andrés’ papa was away for a week, but Sergio was still there. He loved Sergio, he was like a brother to him. 

“Come on, Andrés,” he says to him as he drags Andrés out of the car. Andrés leans on him, and Martín thinks he’s sleeping. He manages to get the door open, and once he walks in, he sees Sergio on the couch, watching TV. 

“Hi, Martín!” he exclaims, waving at him. “What are you doing up?” he asks, dragging Andrés in with some struggle. Andrés stumbles around and murmurs a small, “go to sleep, Sergio,” before collapsing on the couch. In a few seconds, he’s snoring again. 

“I’m watching an ocean documentary. I was waiting for Andrés,” he says, patting the seat next to him. Martín sighs, and takes a seat next to him, in between Sergio and Andrés. “Can I ask you a question, Martín?” 

“Just one, then you sleep.” 

“Are you and Andrés together?” asks Sergio innocently, from behind his glasses. Martín almost chokes on air. “No. I don’t think we’ll ever be, anyway. I’m just his friend.” 

“Really? I think you guys would be nice together. Why not?” 

“I said one question, chico. Come on, help me bring your brother into his room, hmm?” 

Martín ponders Sergio’s thoughts as he and the ten year old drag Andrés into his room, dumping him on his bed. His room is still immaculately clean, with paintings on the walls and his old gramophone on his bedside table. Andrés lays peacefully, his breathing even and his face gentle. “Thanks, hermanito. Go to sleep now, hm?” 

“Okay. Goodnight,” Sergio hugs him quickly before leaving the room, going to his own. Martín stares at Andrés for a few moments, smiling sadly, relishing in this moment. As he turns around to leave, he hears Andrés whisper, “stay, Martín.” And Martín could be sensible. He could continue to just walk out the door and pretend he didn’t hear him.

But Martín had an addiction. And when your high is right there in front of you, you can’t not chase it. 

“I need to go, Andrés,” he tries, still standing a few feet away. Andrés’ eyelids open to reveal his soft, brown eyes. To others, his eyes seemed cold and uncaring, but it was the complete opposite for Martín. “Your house is far, it’s late. Just stay with me,” Andrés doesn’t sound drunk anymore. His voice is softer, gentler. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“I do. Come on.” And Martín is a weak boy. 

He sighs as he slips off his shoes and crawls in next to him, lying on the left side of the bed. He hears shuffling and feels Andrés turn so he’s staring at him, the moonlight allowing Martín to see Andrés’ face. “What I said was true,” Andrés whispers, so quiet that even Martín barely caught it. “You were drunk,” he shrugs. “I know. But I mean it.” 

“Will you say the same in the morning?” Martín’s eyes start to tear up, and he feels the tears start to flow. Before he could wipe them away, Andrés beats him to it, placing a kiss on his forehead as well. Andrés moves the two of them so Martín’s head is tucked under his chin, and he closes his eyes. 

“I will.” 

\--- 

“Te quiero, Martín,” are the first words he hears as he wakes up. It confuses him, because they’re coming from Andrés’ voice. And he smells him. And he’s wrapped around him. Another nice dream, he supposes. 

But it isn’t a dream, because Andrés is smiling at him and he feels his hand curled against the nape of his neck. “Andrés?” he murmurs, blinking away the sleep. “I told you,” he says. 

All the events of last night crash down on him, a night that was meant for him to be studying for calculus turned into a “kiss-your-drunk-best-friend” night. He remembers everything, and now, can he be allowed to believe Andrés? “Don’t play games, Andrés,” he whispers against his chest, voice filled with want. Andrés’ grip tightens around him, and it seems to say, “I’m not.” For the first time in years, Martín can finally breathe. 

“I ended it with Tatiana because everything I felt for you was coming at me, full force. I went on a date, I thought of you. We fucked, I thought of you. No, that’s weird. Never mind I said that,” laughs Andrés. Martín scoffs, sniffling. “I love you too, Andrés. For years, now.” 

“I’m sorry, for putting you through all of that. I’m a coward,” Andrés gulps, letting out a breath. It’s not like Andrés to apologize, he’s too prideful. But Martín knows Andrés like the back of his hand. If he apologizes, he means it. “I forgive you, cobarde,” and with that, he pulls away from his chest to look at him in the face. He still looks as handsome as ever. He’s not Andrés friend, but his boyfriend. It gives him a good feeling in his chest. 

Slowly, he kisses him again. Not like last night. Last night was desperate, quick. Right now, they kiss slowly, and it’s like a promise. He rests his hand on his cheek, pulling Andrés even closer. 

“Why were you kissing Daniel-” Andrés starts when Martín pulls away for a moment. He laughs, rolls his eyes, and kisses his boyfriend harder.


End file.
